


Step Forward Into The Light

by Gay_as_fuck



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Self-Discovery, Self-Hatred, Trans Character, headcanons galore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gay_as_fuck/pseuds/Gay_as_fuck
Summary: In which Ser Jorah Mormont is no Sir and nothing else really changes.





	Step Forward Into The Light

**Author's Note:**

> there are only ten fics in the got/asoiaf tag with trans character so I had to fix that. Anyway I super headcanon jorah as a trans girl even though she's not my fave character (Those have nothing to do with each other).

When Jorah swore himself to her the sun was sinking lower in the sky. Something shifted in Daenerys when she first saw him approach. He wore armor from Westeros and moved with a grace she had never seen in a knight.

Without a word, he made his way to the platform where Daenerys was seated next to her husband. Every time their arms brushed she shook with fear. In a grass sea of the unknown, she recognized Jorah’s familiarly armor and clung to it.

He kneeled in front of her and placed a collection of books at her feet. Daenerys smiled and laid her hand on the man’s shoulder.

“I am sworn to you now, Daenerys Stormborn, just as I am to your brother.”

“Who are you?”, she asked as Jorah stood.

“Ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island.” He took his seat behind her as a guard, though she was not expecting anyone to try and kill her. For a moment, with Jorah at her back, Daenerys was not afraid.

\---

Jorah kept her eyes on the princess as long as she could. While the Dothraki danced, prayed, and gave gifts Jorah’s eyes were not on the spectacle. 

Daenerys Targaryen was beautiful. Her silver hair was illuminated by the dying light. Her face while still round seemed as if it would soon grow thin like her brother. Even though she sat shaking there was a presence about her she would soon grow into. 

Jorah knew that she should not be envious of Daenerys. She was being married off to a savage and foreign lord more than twice her age. She did not speak their language and was leaving the civilized free cities to the unmapped plains of the Dothraki sea.

Jorah did not envy her fear. She envied the gifts of fine dresses. She envied a woman born into a perfect body and a beautiful future. Jorah caught herself imagining Daenerys’ soft voice as her own. 

Daenerys had been gifted by the gods everything Jorah wasn’t. Jorah clenched her hand into a fist and let her nails bit into the calloused flesh of her hands. She whispered herself a reminder, one that had driven her through life.

“Don’t hate others for your delusions.” 

However, Jorah’s mind refused to bend back into self-hatred again. Her brain refused to go back to “sir” and “he”. All that was left was an impossible sadness for Daenerys who was also now forever bound to something she did not love.

\---

Daenerys shuddered and pulled her shall further up against her shoulders. They would be riding through the night and she was exhausted. She imagined herself falling from her horse and the dirt swallowing her up.

Jorah must have noticed her anguish since he rode up to her side. He smiled at her and matched her speed.

“Tired Khaleesi?” Daenerys nodded.

“Couldn’t we just rest? It’s late and we should be sleeping.” Jorah nodded and rummaged around in his saddlebag for something. He produced a piece of horse jerky much to Daenerys disappointment.

“Eat Khaleesi- perhaps it will give you more energy.” Daenerys took the piece from Jorah’s outstretched hand and bit into it, ripping off a bit with her teeth.

“I’m their Khaleesi, why can’t I order them to rest tonight?” Daenerys asked though it was clear she had yet to develop the motivation to do so.

“All women who travel with or within the Dothraki must know how to ride, it is exhausting I know but we must do it?” Daenerys furrowed her eyebrows and stared at Jorah.

“What do you know about what it is like to be a woman living with the Dothraki?” Jorah paused for a moment, as if he was about to speak, before sighing instead.

“I know nothing of that Khaleesi.” 

\---

Khal Drogo lay dying and Jorah was left alone in Daenerys room. She had entered without warning, in hopes of comforting her. Daenerys was not there and she was alone with soft fabric dresses and skirts in all the colors of the sky.

She should be panicked and running out of the room in search of Daenerys. She knows that. But for the first time in her life, she could take a silk skirt and keep it. Never wear it- but just to have it with her would be a blessing.

She reached out and ran her fingers over a flowing skirt the color of dusk. It is soft- far softer than anything she’s ever worn. 

It’s a greedy fantasy, she knew that. It didn’t stop her from wanting it. She tried to remind herself of her worthlessness. She was not worth the fine silk if she planned to steal it. The words stuck but did not deter her.

She pocketed it. Having it with her felt so right it almost canceled out her guilt. 

\---

The first thing Daenerys decided when she stepped out of the flames was that her people need proper clothes. They were no longer slaves, no longer sworn to her. Why should her people be forced to clean fabric finer than they’d ever wear?

She had plenty to give so she gave all of it. Her own fine silks went to the women who had once cleaned her feet and cared for horses. She gave the soldiers and attendants Drogo’s vests and armor.

The group was a splash of color in the green plains. A moving Khalasar dressed like wildflowers. Only Ser Jorah opted to keep his armor.

“Why don’t you take this?” Daenerys offered as she looked through the clothes she could not take with them any longer. All the fabric pulled the horses down with a weight they did not need while traveling at a pace they could not keep up much longer.

She held out a brown vest with golden trim. Jorah sighed and shook his head.

“My armor serves me well Khaleesi, I don’t need anything more.” Daenerys huffed and put the vest down.

“You must take something! There is too much here to waste. I’ve already asked for the thicker fabrics be turned into quilts and the gems to be pried off the dresses.” She bowed her head and crumbled up her skirt in an iron grip.

“It’s not enough I know but I want what’s best for my people. I want what’s best for you Jorah so take something while I still have things to give.” 

Jorah reached out then paused a few inches from her head. Daenerys nodded and Jorah cupped her chin in his hands, lifting it up to meet his eyes.

“The road ahead will be hard but you are strong. Your people love you- I swear I will always protect you. If it means so much to you then I will take something.” Daenerys forced a shaky smile which Jorah returned.

Jorah’s eyes lingered on the bright colors of the woman’s clothes as he pretended to look through Drogo’s old clothing.

He grabbed something bright from Drogo’s section, a dull yellow shirt and the only one of the sort in the pile.

Daenerys went back to sorting and let Jorah go on his way.

\---

The shirt was made for Khal Drogo. The fabric was of average feel and it lay to large on Jorah but she didn’t mind. 

For the first time since she had left bear island, she had something colorful to wear. Armor was fine, even the protective bottom which often felt like a skirt. In her head, she would sometimes imagine it as a dress. That never went over well.

It always lay too heavy on her shoulders and knocked against her knees. Armor was not a skirt, no matter how she pretended. 

It was a foolish thing, to pretend to be something she wasn’t. On some days- she couldn’t tell if they were her worst or just the days she caught a glimpse of sanity- she would try to force herself to be the son of Gregor Mormont.

It never lasted long. 

\---

When they reached Qarth there was much to do so Daenerys commanded that Jorah go around the city with her. It was a strange place and there were many who wanted the mother of dragons dead before she could come into power or money.

“This city is dangerous for women Khaleesi- you can’t trust anyone here.” He warned her as he stood just behind her left shoulder.

“I will be fine- I have you to protect me don’t I?” She laughed slightly as Jorah frowned. They were strolling the marketplace. The bright clothes of skirts and tapestry hung from every stall corner. 

Jorah’s eyes seemed glued to the airy fabrics, despite his efforts to guard Daenerys. She smiled- Ser Jorah was an odd man, with his love for fabrics and color.

“With the way you’re acting Ser Jorah, I’d think you were a young girl.” He gave a bark of a laugh.

“Perhaps I am Khaleesi.” His voice wavered slightly and Daenerys laughed again- embarrassing Ser Jorah was one of her favorite hobbies. 

\---

When Jorah returned to the room she would be staying in she found her things dumped on the simple bed. A jolt of fear went through her. The skirt had been in there and of course, it would be brought to Daenerys 

Perhaps whoever had brought her things had decided to leave the skirt in there- or maybe never found it at all.

As she riffled through the pile of clothes the only splash of color was the yellow shirt she had taken for Khal Drogo’s wardrobe. 

Maybe the girl had taken the skirt for herself. At that Jorah let out a sigh of relief. They wouldn’t question why she had a skirt- they’d just think it got mixed up. Perhaps they’d think it was a gift for someone that she had yet to give.

There was a knock on her door and Jorah felt her back stiffen instinctively. She turned from the pile of clothes on the bed and walked to the door and opened it. There stood Daenerys with the blue skirt in hand. Jorah felt panic bubble in her chest.

“ Ser Jorah- a member of my Khalasar came to me with this. She said she found it with your clothes. Can you explain that?”

Jorah’s brain was practically screaming at her. A roaring chant of “Lie! Lie! Lie!”. The panic almost overwhelmed a feeling of relief. There was a taste of freedom on her tongue at the idea of just telling the truth and being done with it.

Daenerys was a champion of the old and young, free and enslaved. She surely would not leave Jorah behind if she told her secret.

“It was yours- I took it a while ago.”

“Why?” 

“I wanted to wear it. I know that is no explanation for my crime but- let me explain myself more. I’m still Ser Jorah but I’m not a sir. I hope you can still accept me.”

Daenerys seemed to get it. With a soft smile and kind eyes, she gave her reply.

“You are my sword Madame Jorah- I could never leave you behind.” 

Jorah took her hand and, for the first time in her life, she felt truly free.


End file.
